


rain.

by bustedbrenna



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), The Jackbox Party Pack (Video Games), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Internal Conflict, Love Confessions, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bustedbrenna/pseuds/bustedbrenna
Summary: “Why are you here?”Dream wonders why he is here. He delves through his mind, and he knows.He pictures him- George. He remembers his smile, the one where the light reaches his eyes, when he glows. That one was his favorite. He reminds himself of the freckles that littered his skin, but only when the sun hit them just right. His eyes. The slight flush of his cheeks when he was embarrassed. Dream is sure he loves him.--inspired by "rain" by jack stauber
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. leaf.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time creating a Dreamnotfound fic! Please keep in mind that these characters are inspired by online personas and that all events are purely fictional.
> 
> I wrote this inspired by 'rain' by Jack Stauber, an audio that felt very personal to me. Almost like a feeling of something occurring that is completely out of your control- which I try to convey in this story.

Dream remembers entering the room. With the occasional tapping of his fingers upon the wooden armrest, he shifts within the seat, fabric itching at his skin. He notices some of the stains on the chair as he glances down, counting a total of 7. Odd, he remarked.

He lifted his head, looking to the left, and noticed the books lining the shelves- most self-help books, with the occasional textbook that most likely occupied a great amount of its users’ years, its spine littered with cracks. He took notice of the clock to his right, its ticking signaling every second that had passed by him.

The woman opposite him cleared her throat, Dream shifted his eyes towards her. Distrust. He scratches absent mindedly at the skin around his nails, waiting for the silence to be filled with something. Anything. She stares blankly back at him, her eyes reflecting years of patience behind them, irises gentle and forgiving. Dream does not trust them.

“Why are you here?” she questions.

Dream is the first to look away, finding comfort and solace in the wall closest to him, committing the bumps and occasional crack and chip in its surface to his memory. Their eyes reconnect and Dream wonders why he is here. He delves through his mind, and he knows.

He pictures him- George. He remembers his smile, the one where the light reaches his eyes, when he glows. That one was his favorite. He reminds himself of the freckles that littered his skin, but only when the sun hit them just right. His eyes. The slight flush of his cheeks when he was embarrassed. Dream is sure he loves him.

His eyes flicker back up to the woman. He contemplates, he does not trust her.

“George,” he offers, glancing back at the frames lining the wall behind her.

He notices that she considers his answer, counting 5 ticks from the clock as it fills the silence. Dream finds that he is fond of the clock, it helps occupy his thoughts. He likes when he doesn’t have to think. He concludes that his thoughts are dangerous.

She shifts, he waits.

“Would you like to tell me about him?”

Dream does not like that question. Half of him does not want to share George, does not want to let someone else bask in him. She does not deserve him. The other half does not have words for him. Thousands of words and images clash together in his mind, creating vague pieces of memories that Dream can’t quite put together. He picks at his fingers.

Dream slowly shakes his head, “I can’t.”

“And why is that?”

Dream feels as though there is something he is missing; he does not know why. He can’t answer her. He looks around the room, becoming bored of the wall and its details, his eyes settling on a metal name plate. He notices the multitude of fingerprints and smudges; he does not say anything to her.

“May I ask you something?”

He glances back up at her, temporarily interrupted. He considers her request before nodding his head slightly.

“Is he an important person in your life?”

Dream throws his head in the direction of the window; he does not want to think about George anymore. Instead, he focuses on the leaves- the way that they sway when the wind whispers secrets to them. For a brief second, Dream wishes he were a leaf. Then he would not have to think about George. He cannot help but be reminded of him, the sun only shines half as bright.

He looks back, “Yes, he was.”

“You used the past tense, why is that?”

He considers her remark before adding, “He _is_ an important person in my life, I just haven’t seen or talked to him in a while.”

She tilts her head, “Is he the reason you’re here?”

Dream considers this for a moment, digging into his skin with his nail. He isn’t sure.

“Yes and no.” He shrugs.

“How is that?”

He shifts, the fabric clinging and digging into his skin, “He convinced me to come here, to ask for help, I mean,” Dream pauses for a second, thinking of what he wants to say before adding, “I know it should be for me, and maybe it is. I know it’s bad. It got worse. I should be here, and I know that. But I did it for him, I want to be what he wants.”

His statements are clipped and fast, a reflection of his thoughts. He does not filter them; he sees no reason to.

She takes in his response, “Can I give you a piece of advice?”

Dream does not want advice. He nods his head anyway.

“We will always be what someone wants. Always. The same can be said for you- George will always want you, otherwise he would have not taken the initiative that he did. You cannot become something that he already wants, you need to become something he needs. But first, you need to become something that you need, not him.”

Dream does not know what he needs. He thinks, maybe, he needs George. But he knows she will not accept that answer; he thinks harder, his mind is blank.

“I-I don’t know what I need.”

She folds her hands under her chin, “Why do you think that is?”

He furrows his eyebrows. He shakes his head; he does not know.

“From what I can tell, it is hard for you accept the unknown. Many of us find beauty within the unknown, we find peace in it. You perceive it as a threat. No one has the key to the secrets of the Universe. No one. We are not supposed to know all the answers just yet; we can figure them out as we go.”

He does not like this answer. He stares back out into the trees laying outside the window. Now, he certainly wishes he were a leaf. He is envious.

He thinks about the words falling from her lips, finding some truth scoured within them. He does not like being wrong. Dream concentrates on the world outside the window, avoiding her observations in fear of what they might mean for him.

The woman notices, choosing to let go of the topic. Instead, she picks something that she knows he will talk about.

“You had mentioned something about George earlier,” she states.

At this, Dream looks back towards her.

“You had mentioned that you no longer talked to him, and that you hadn’t seen him in a while. Why?”

His heart drops. His mind flashes pieces of that night. No. He does not want to remember that night; he does not want her to get the wrong idea. George is good. George is pure. That night was not George. Not him.

His eyes flash back down to his lap, he counts the stains on the chair. There are 8- one is red. He continues picking at his skin, the blood rising to the surface. He reminds himself, that was not George. Not _his_ George.

He glances back up at the woman, “I-I can’t, I don’t know where to start. It was more than just one thing.”

She shrugs and sits back, “Tell me from the beginning.”

Dream glances outside the window, watching the cars drive by, noticing the way that the leaves danced with the wind. He takes a deep breath and faces towards her.

_He is ready._


	2. goodnight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys play jackbox, but george notices something off with dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i hope you enjoy this chapter as it took a lot to finish it! if you're looking for minecraft content, i'm sure i'll post chapters with it in the future, so don't worry. please don't hesitate to comment what you think on this chapter!

_It all started 5 months ago._

"Dream?" 

He realizes he has zoned out, his gaze lingering on the occasional pieces of fur littered across the hardwood floor beneath him. Patches, he mutters, cursing her for her constant shedding. Dream glances back up, laying his hand back on top of the mouse, shaking it back and forth on the mousepad. His screen comes alive, becoming one of the only sources of light in his room, casting dark shadows on everything around him. He squints, the harsh light of the computer too much compared to the dull light of his bedside lamp- which, up until a few seconds ago, was the only thing allowing him to see the clear reminder that he needed to clean soon. He realizes he is still in Discord, he thought he had left.

“Dream?” the voice repeats, confusion laced with bits of concern.

"Huh?" he murmurs, his thoughts temporarily distracted by the hum of George's voice.

"Do you want to play Jackbox? Quackity's streaming- Bad and Sap are gonna be on, Karl too."

Dream is hesitant, he's not sure if he's up to it, but George starts pleading on the other end of the call, gnawing on each of Dream’s heartstrings.

"Dreammmm," he drags out, "you _have_ to play. Please, please, please," he begs, feigning sadness at Dream's predicted absence during the stream.

Dream caves. It's not because of George, he promises himself. Not because of George.

"I guess I’ll join, only for a bit, though. I need to log off soon to feed Patches.”

Though faint, most noise being blocked out by his soundproof headset, he can hear Patches push through the door, head leaning upon the door to nudge it open. She walks over to Dream, rubbing on the leg resting on the floor, the other tucked under his knee. She meows faintly, his mic just barely picking up on the meek sound.

George laughs, “Is Patches there Dream?”

He smiles down at her, reaching down to pet at her head, scratching the spot behind her ear that he knows she likes. Patches nudges his hand upwards, her spine adjusting to the curve of his hand, his palm running down her back as she moves forward. She purrs, Dream smiles.

“Yeah, but to be fair, it’s around the time I usually feed her. She’s just making sure I remembered, I guess.” He remarks, smiling to himself.

George hums ever so faintly, Dream can hear it, though. It brings him comfort, but he doesn’t let George know that.

He hears a few light clicks, registering through George’s mic, followed by his loud, yet fast typing.

“I’ll let Alex know you can join, I’m sure he’ll enjoy putting you in the title,” George says, his smile peeking through his words.

As George finishes talking, Dream feels his phone vibrate, the screen glowing, illuminating the ceiling above him. He slides his phone closer, examining the notification that popped up: “QuackityHQ is live!: Jackbox with Dream, George, Karl, Sapnap, and Bad!” He pulls up Discord, now finding that the section dedicated for live streaming in the ‘Sex Havers’ group chat was now occupied by Quackity. He’s probably talking to chat, Dream thinks.

He looks back down at Patches, noticing the slight rise and fall of her body, the way that she sleeps. Curled up in a ball, Dream makes sure to not move his leg as to not to distract her, half her body splayed across his foot. If he removes his headphones and filters out the quiet hum of the air conditioning, he is able to hear the soft purrs coming from her; he smiles ever so faintly.

His Discord notifies him that he has been ‘poked’- this time, the message is from George.

_George: join vc_

Dream shifts in his seat, moving his mouse towards the ‘join’ button and clicking. A multitude of voices come sounding through his headphones simultaneously, his thoughts being drowned out, for now at least.

“Hello Dream,” Quackity says in his odd, but familiar voice, “Are you ready to pop off?!”

“I am.” Dream says faintly, clearly not exuding the same energy Alex is- he wonders if he had drunk an energy drink before streaming… that amount of energy and enthusiasm in anyone is too overwhelming, even for him.

Quackity then quickly explains the game to his audience, the directions vague and hurried as most of the viewers have watched the group play before. He adds that each of the boys will be playing for a prize, both George and Sapnap consistently bugging him about the undisclosed reward.

“Alright boys, we will be competing for _100 gifted subs_ ,” Quackity announces.

The boys all sit up in their seats when Alex mentions 100 gifted subs, each of them ‘ooo-ing’ and hyping themselves up in preparation of what is to come. After the noise dies down, he continues.

“Whoever wins the most games at the end will be gifted them the next time they stream, or if you’re George, that’ll be next month.”

George quickly protests his comment, claiming that he isn’t _that_ bad with his streaming schedule.

After this, the call goes nearly silent, save from Alex’s faint laughing as he drags a screenshot onto his monitor, allowing for each of the boys and the audience to see. It reads, ‘GeorgeNotFound last streamed 13 days ago.’- and as each boy finishes reading the screenshot, the call erupts with laughter, wheezes and coughs filling the silence. George was the only one not laughing, which Dream found even funnier, a wheeze sounding out.

“Ok, that’s enough,” George adds, clearly flustered, and even though he couldn’t see it, Dream knew he was blushing from embarrassment.

The laughter died down and Jackbox was started, Quackity starting off with a classic game of _Quiplash._

The boys settled into silence, the sound of clicking keys filling the void and the occasional reminder from Alex that pandering was **not** allowed- most of the group didn’t follow the rule, but Dream thought it added to the fun of the game.

After finishing each prompt, Dream sat back until the timer was done, the other boys finishing with nearly 5 seconds left before their answers were substituted for those crappy, generic ones made by the game. His thoughts were interrupted by the game initiating the first prompt, which Quackity started reading.

“Movie reboot idea: _The Devil Wears _____,”_

The first answer pops up, reading “Condoms”- the group immediately bursts into laughter, with the occasional chuckle from Bad. They really all do have the humor of teenage boys, Dream thinks.

The second answer quickly follows, reading “BadBoyHalo curses IRL, this is not a drill :O”- to which Bad instantly protests, screaming over the rest of the group in order to drown out their teasing. Dream looks over to his second monitor, watching the chat fly by as they erupt into hysterics over the last answer.

“Stop, you muffinheads!”

Quackity interrupts, “Bad, Bad! I have proof that you swear off-stream! Listen.”

The call is suddenly silent- then, a voice interjects, imitating Bad’s voice.

“Hello muffinheads, I say _shit_ and _fuck_ and I love Skeppy!” Alex hollers into his mic, the group bursting into laughter.

“Quackity! Language!”

Obviously, the one about Bad cursing won, with 60 percent of the audience voting for it. This earned some backlash from each of the men (but mostly Sapnap), shouting about how that counted as pandering. But, eventually, they let it slide as most of the answers throughout the game were pandering, despite what Alex had said before the game had even started.

The game continues on, the boys settling into the familiarity of each other’s’ company and bits of silence- Dream feels as though most people would think that it’s awkward, the suffocating silence, but he loves that about them. The silence is intimate and reassuring, like a hug- you don’t need words to express how you feel, you just know. You each pull away at the same time, the silence expressing the time in which you each must depart. Dream smiles at the thought of hugging each of the boys, he hopes he can soon.

A few rounds pass by, with Sapnap in the lead, George following close behind him in points. Then comes the last section, the bit where each of the players has to insert at least three answers, rather than one, for each prompt- Karl laughs at the sample prompt, like he always seems to do, his giggles sounding through Dream’s headphones before the call goes quiet and the lull is filled with the sound of tapping upon keyboards and the occasional chuckle from either George or Quackity.

Once each of them finishes, the game shuffles through the prompts, the call filled with laughter and jokes as everyone reacts to each of the answers; Quackity eventually quiplashes Dream, his joke about Tommy’s exile creating an uproar among the audience. He deserved it though- Dream’s answer was hurried and shitty, preferring to type anything over being provided with a default answer, which would’ve given him even more of an edge.

The last round starts, the prompt reading: “What is something that feels fake, but isn’t?”

Sapnap’s answer quickly appears, listing out the three things he had written down, which, to be honest, he was very proud of. They popped up, revealing his responses to the prompt: the vlog, BBH cursing, and Skephalo.

The men go ballistic, each of them laughing in their own special way, Karl registering the loudest through Discord. The second answer appears- it’s George’s.

They read: DNF, DNF, and DNF.

Sapnap sighs, “Dude! That’s pandering!”

Everyone in the call agrees, but George just keeps giggling, “You’re just mad that I’m gonna win Sapnap.”

“Dude, you’re such an idiot!”

Dream just sits in silence, his eyes stuck to the three words on the monitor in front of him. He’s not sure how to feel. He drags his eyes away, temporarily distracted by his second monitor, the chat completely going nuts over George’s answer. Dream knew he did it to get a rise out of the audience; he knew that, he did. But it still ignited something in him, something he didn’t want to confront just yet.

The game tallies up the votes, with nearly 80 percent going to George- it was really no surprise that he quiplashed Sapnap. The screen cuts to the ending screen, the credits flying by and the announcement of George’s victory filling Dream’s screen.

“Dude, that’s so rigged,” Sapnap protests, followed by George’s celebratory hollering and laughing. Bad congratulates George on his win while Quackity adds a point to George’s name at the top of the screen.

Dream sighs, the sound of George’s laughter ringing through his ears filling him with a sense of longing and emptiness- he wishes he could hear it, really, rather than through his headphones. He wishes he could see his face, the way his nose crinkles and his eyes squint up when he laughs; he wanted to see it all.

He couldn’t do it anymore, “Hey Quackity, I gotta head off now so I’m gonna go.”

“Awe, is _Dweam_ sad that he got quiplashed by me?” Alex taunts.

Dream chuckles, feigning some sort of interest in the conversation for the audience.

“Sureeeee, but anyway, bye guys! Byeeeee!” He hollers, his mouse hovering over the ‘leave’ button before clicking on it. He sighs, his shoulders slumping as he collapses back into his chair. He rubs his face, and even though no one could see him, he feels tired from putting up an act for everyone, the interaction and stream becoming too much for him.

He rolls back his chair, his feet pushing down onto the cold, hardwood flooring, waking up Patches. He whispers a quick ‘sorry’ to her, bending down to scratch at her head before standing and making his way toward his kitchen, Patches following closely behind.

Dream settles into the familiar motions, letting his hands guide him while he thinks.

He has never known how to interpret his friendship with George- they argue, they flirt, they call non-stop. Everything reminds him of George, his thoughts constantly drifting back to him. And sure, they flirt, but who’s to say it isn’t real? It feels real to Dream. Everything he feels for George is real. Whether George feels the same way… he has no clue.

As Patches rubs herself against his legs, he finishes filling her bowl, reaching down to set it on the ground. As soon as the metal hits the floor, Patches is gone and Dream is left alone with the quiet hum of the AC and his thoughts, most of them occupied by George.

He heads back into his room, the room illuminated by the harshness of his computer screen- he glances towards his bed, favoring sleep, but is interrupted by the small rumbling of his phone upon his desk. He shuffles toward it, his feet barely rising off the ground, but his curiosity gets the better of him, guiding him through exhaustion towards the noise.

He taps on his phone, finding a few notifications, all from George.

**1 Message: George**

**1 Missed Call: George**

Dream breathes in, slowing his heartbeat before sliding across the screen, opening up his messages with George.

_George: hey, u okay?_

Dream quickly types back a response:

_fine._

He throws his phone back down upon the desk, shuffling back over to his bed in hopes of being left alone by everyone. His hopes are soon let down as the familiar vibration of his phone sounds through the silent room. He pushes himself back up, tapping back onto his phone to see a new message from George.

George: _Call me._

Dream feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. His finger lingers on the ‘call’ button right next to George’s name, wondering whether he would really notice if he didn’t call at all. Maybe he fell asleep? Yeah, that could work.

The instant he places his phone back on the desk, another vibration sounds through the room and Dream winces, knowing full well who the notification was from. He opens his phone, tapping onto his messages with George.

_George: I know you saw that message, don’t act like you didn’t_

Dream curses under his breath, his heartbeat seemingly ringing through his ears- why did George have to know him so well? Anyone else would’ve just assumed he had gone to sleep, just hadn’t seen the message. But George knows he can push, he can push Dream to his limits, and he lets him. The soft spot that he has for him gets used by George a little too much, despite the fact that he doesn’t even know Dream has one for him.

His touch hovers over the ‘call’ button, taking a large inhale before pressing the button. The ringing fills his ears for a few seconds before the sound is interrupted by George answering. They both sit in silence for what seems like years- Dream doesn’t want to start the conversation. Really. But he knows George wants him to; he would sit in silence for over an hour, just waiting until he said anything. Dream caves.

“H-hello,” he mutters, sighing.

“What’s up?” George replies, concern laced through his voice.

Dreams brows furrow, “What do you mean?”

“You left.”

“Well, I told you I had to leave early. I had to feed Patches.”

George huffs, “Sure. Do you forget how many nights we’ve stayed on call together?”

Dream knows that he knows, I mean, how could he not? He thinks back to all the nights that they’ve stayed up together, laughing and talking about seemingly nothing for hours upon hours. He smiles, fond of the memories and inside jokes that have come from each of those nights.

He chuckles, “Yes, I remember.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong.”

Dream sighs, knowing the truth will get pulled from him at one point or another- it was just a matter of how long he wanted to prolong it.

“I just,” he starts, having trouble communicating his thoughts, “I didn’t feel up to Jackbox in the first place, but you asked.”

“You know you can say no, right? I just invited you, thought you could use a few laughs with all of us,” George sighs, “If you didn’t feel up to it, why didn’t you just say so, Dream?”

Dream winces, rubbing his face with his hands. He sits back on the bed before collapsing on top of it, his body engulfed in the multiple pillows and blankets that scatter his bed. It almost felt like a hug, almost.

“I couldn’t, not to you.”

George stutters, not sure what to make of Dream’s words, “What do you mean ‘not to me’?”

“You don’t know?” Dream asks, wondering if he was as clueless as he was letting on.

“Know what?”

“I, um,” he exhales, not sure how to start, “I’ve always had a soft spot for you, I’m not sure why, but I do. I want to see you happy; I mean, I think I’d do anything to see you smile. I couldn’t say no, ya’ know, risk making you sad because of me.”

“Dream,” George starts, his words airy and weak, “You could never make me sad. Trust me, I wouldn’t have been hurt by you saying no- I understand, it can be hard being the center of everyone’s attention. You don’t have to pretend with me, Dream.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, though he wasn’t even aware he had been holding his breath at all.

“You don’t either, George.”

The call goes silent, both boys tense and not sure what to make of each other. Dream finds it comforting- the soft sound of George’s breathing, fixing his own to match the rise and fall of his chest. His thoughts border on inconsistent but still, he closes his eyes, letting the sound guide him to sleep. On the edge of unconsciousness, he hears George’s voice, the sound soothing and nurturing to his ears.

“Goodnight, Dream.”


	3. hope.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Sapnap have a surprise for Dream <333

Dream is woken up, the dim sunlight ripping his slumber from him and casting its light through his windows and into his eyes. He didn’t remember falling asleep at all. He groans, rolling over to press his face into the cotton sheets, impressing on the pillow. His disdain for the sun is muffled, but still, he feels disappointed all the same.

He hates the weather in Florida. It’s too complex for him- it reminds him of emotions. Fickle, undecided, sometimes unmoving. He could hear the faint tapping of the rain on his window; the pattering disturbing the silence, the air previously void of movement and bustle, the world around him still.

He exhaled deeply, stretching his body across his bed, his figure fully spanning across the mattress. He twisted towards his window, accepting his fate, his face greeting the welcoming rays of the sun. He studied the way that the raindrops fell on his window, their speed picking up as Dream could see the dark, billowing clouds shifting ever so slightly toward his window.

Dream did not like rain. Well, he liked looking at it. He hated being wet- it reminded him too much of crying. Of sobs wracking through his body. He liked to admire the rainfall from a distance, a safe distance. He liked many things like that- always at arm’s length, never touching, just close enough for his admiration.

He guiltily thinks of George. He thinks of all the times he has left him at arm’s reach, not out of sight, just close enough for him not to get hurt. So pretty, delicate, _touchable_ \- but not for his calloused, rough fingers which contrast too much with the soft expanse of George’s skin.

Dream convinces himself that he is not good enough for him, too damaging. George is like the first breath you take after being underwater too long- you can only go so long without oxygen, too long before you forget what it feels like. Once you reach the surface, your lungs will work for minutes, attempting to heave air back into them, like they had never known what it felt like to breathe in the first place. That’s what George feels like; he feels like you can finally breathe, can finally live.

Dream turns over, no longer interested in watching the rain race down his windowsill; it reminds him too much of when he was younger, happier even.

Instead, he dedicates the next few hours to studying the surface of the wall directly next to his bed, feigning interest in the flaws in craftsmanship and the nicks in the paint, evidence of his residence.

He has no desire to do anything. Every once in a while, his phone will vibrate, the notification igniting the room, filling the room with white light. Eventually, the light would dim, and Dream would be left within the darkness, with little to no movement or sound signifying his consciousness or existence.

Along with his phone, he would sometimes receive the occasional notification from his computer, notifying him that he had been ‘poked’ through Discord- Dream tries to guess who it could be from. Could it be from Tommy? He usually bothers him to the ends of the Earth, clinging to every thread he could in order to get Dream on his streams; maybe, just maybe, it might be him. He also considers Sapnap; he remembers the brunette talking about some speed running stream he had wanted to do. He feels bad if he had missed it, Sapnap always joined during his streams, easily providing more entertaining content and banter for his viewers. Dream tries to remember if that was planned for today; he delves through his mind, coming up empty.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he really doesn’t, but he would be lying if the thought of George messaging him didn’t bring him joy. The smile on his face as he writes up his ‘witty’ jokes that only he finds funny, the way he curls up in embarrassment every time Dream brings up something that he had said to him the previous week in Discord. Admiration fills him to his core.

He smiles very briefly, but it slowly fades after he hears the soft pattering of rain drumming on top of his roof, reminding him that he was stuck inside, alone. All alone. Well, besides Patches. But she wasn’t much help either- Dream had tried having a conversation with her, once. He ended up feeling very ridiculous, only receiving the occasional ‘meow’ from Patches, suggesting that maybe she was listening to him after all. He’ll never know.

Dream lays there for a while, he’s not sure how long. Hours, maybe, if he had to guess. He knows he should get up, and, to his dismay, he does. He sighs, pulling the covers back and slipping his legs out from under the tangle of sheets and blankets that, up until a few seconds ago, made him feel warm and protected.

He shuffles towards the kitchen, Patches taking notice right away, her ears perking up at the sound of his feet dragging on the floor. She stretches out, her nails digging into the fabric beneath her before she jumps down, following closely behind Dream.

He quickly feeds Patches, the metal clinking against the hardwood flooring. He opens the fridge, finding nothing appetizing to him but, against his better judgement, decides to reheat some leftovers from the previous week. He throws it in the microwave, the piercing sound it makes once it’s done hurts his ears; he was acclimating to the soft hum of his AC and the rain thrumming against each of his windows, the quiet sounds coinciding with his mood.

He glances out at his backyard from time to time, noticing the growth of the puddles, the mud collecting. The sun catches his eye, peeking out from behind the dark clouds and he turns away from it, its brightness unwanted in the cold, damp darkness of his kitchen. He huffs in distaste as he thinks of the weather outside- blisteringly humid, wet, and though the rain has cooled the air outside, the sun burns into his skin.

He gets up, tossing his plate into the sink before making his way toward his room, the same four walls providing him with a sense of familiarity as he spent the previous days committing the strange patterns on the surfaces to his memory. He looks toward his bed, almost like an instinct, tempted by its promised ease.

He looks toward his monitor, the anxiety spreading through him like wildfire as he thinks of all the things people could be doing without him- maybe Tommy invited Tubbo to his stream, and now the two of them are laughing and having a good time, together. Or maybe Sapnap decided to talk to Quackity during his stream, the two of them creating special inside jokes and memories that Dream will never be a part of.

His anxiety pulls him toward his computer, overpowering his need for rest, despite the fact that he had slept most of the day, anyway. He plops himself down into the chair in front of his screen, the leather cold and unwelcoming on the back of his legs. Maybe I shouldn’t run my house too cold, he thinks.

Before he can think any better of it, he turns on both of his monitors, both screens illuminating the harsh darkness of his room. He looks around his home screen, searching for the Discord icon, desperately trying to find it in the sea of folders that situate themselves in front of the set photo of Patches. Eventually, he finds it, jitter clicking on the icon in hopes that it opens faster- in reality, it actually doesn’t, but it calms Dream to know that he may be saving even a few seconds of missed time.

Discord finally opens, opening to his direct messages; to his delight, he realizes that he was ‘poked’ by Sapnap a couple minutes ago, inviting him to join the TeamSpeak with both him and George, just to talk and mess around.

He gladly hops onto TeamSpeak, spotting the call with both boys in it, joining the instant the screen loads onto the software. The system sounds out Dream’s arrival, George and Sapnap noticing in milliseconds.

“-that stream.”

“Dream!” George shouts, interrupting Sapnap.

“Dude, where have you been?” Sapnap questions, no longer interested in the topic both boys were talking about before Dream’s joining.

“Uh, I’ve just been sleeping.”

Deafening silence follows until George erupts into laughter, “For 16 hours?! That’s got to be some sort of record.”

“I call bull.” Sapnap adds.

Dream shrugs, “It’s the truth. I don’t know, I’ve just been tired lately. That’s all.”

Both boys are nonchalant, feigning indifference, accepting his answer before falling back into comfortable banter, mostly between George and Sapnap, though. Every now and then Dream would have to interject, siding with one of the other boys, mostly George; Sapnap had a hard time losing arguments, most of them fueled by emotions and opinions, Dream explained.

“To be fair, you don’t have anything to back up the fact that you think orange juice is better. Just because you say it is doesn’t mean anything.”

“You don’t have any evidence either!” Sapnap argues, despising the fact that he was outnumbered during this argument.

“We totally do,” George cackled, “I ran a poll during stream today, 67% of the viewers thought apple juice was better. You can’t just keep disputing the fact that orange juice is _awful_ , it’s been like 4 hours, Sapnap.”

“My argument still stands,” he argues, “You guys just have horrible taste.”

“I do not!” Dream exclaims.

George laughs, “Plus, if Dream likes it, that _has_ to mean it’s better.”

Sapnap chuckles, “God, you’re such an idiot, George.”

All the boys laugh, signifying that the argument was over- Sapnap was sure to bring it up again within the next week, but that’s a problem for the future, Dream thinks. He slumps back into his chair, settling into the familiar vitality as each of them talk about their own respective passions and affairs. Dream occasionally mentions speed running and the new records that he wants to attempt to beat on 1.15, while Sapnap asks for advice on ways to edit his new video and what color he should make the thumbnail; George spends most of the time trying to come up with new TikTok ideas, saving sounds and notes, occasionally creating a video and saving it so that he could release it later.

Dream loved when they could do this. They could talk freely, together, all without filter. Each of them loved when they could stream, loved their audiences and chat, but they weren’t themselves when 100,000 people were watching them- merely a refined version of who they really were.

He glances back outside his window, the black rainclouds still there, but, if he looked farther, he could see the clear, blue sky underneath all the darkness. He smiles because, by god, he hated the rain.

On his monitor, both George and Sapnap’s Minecraft skins crouch in front of him, holding cooked mutton in both of their hands. Dream laughs momentarily, followed by both boys giggling and running off in different directions, George heading towards the forest while Sapnap runs into the desert. Dream quickly runs after George, catching up to him and hitting him once with his fist, giving him a boost, as both of them run under the treetops together. Dream is slightly faster than George, catching up to him easily, hitting him various times throughout the chase. After 9 more hits, George’s character drops and a death message reads out: **_GeorgeNotFound_** _didn’t want to live in the same world as **Dream.**_

“Dreammmmmm!” George cries out, followed by a wheeze from the other boy.

“You two fight like a married couple.” Sapnap interjects.

“We do not, Sapnap!”

“Sure,” he says, not impressed by George’s rebuttal, “Whatever you say, lovebirds.”

Sapnap quickly catches up to Dream in-game and starts chopping down trees, collecting wood for no apparent reason. They spend a few minutes doing this, George eventually returning to the area that Dream had killed him in.

“Wait!” Sapnap hollers, “Come here Dream.”

“Wha-,“ Dream turns to face Sapnap’s character, finding that he was barreling towards the open desert, wooden planks in hand.

He immediately runs after him, hopping under trees in order to get some sort of gain on Sapnap, with George a few blocks behind him, struggling to catch up to the other two boys. Though loudly voicing his discontent, George runs until he finds Dream and Sapnap, both boys standing in the middle of the desert, a single wooden oak plank on the ground.

Sapnap begins building a large, cylindrical mass using the wood he had spent minutes collecting. It seemed to be a room or something of the sort, Dream couldn’t quite figure it out, his character crouching around the building. To his surprise, Sapnap creates two protruding panels out of either end on the cylindrical chunk, making Dream even more confused than he had been before.

To George’s amusement, he already knew what it was, having talked to Sapnap about the surprise beforehand, he just didn’t know he planned on telling him _now._ George shrugged; it didn’t really matter to him either way, Dream had to find out at some point.

Almost finishing his build, Sapnap still had to add the tail on the back, creating two similar panels like the ones before it, only smaller. After completing it, he stepped back, crouching up to Dream and looking up at his character.

“Well?” Sapnap questioned.

Dream spun around the wooden mass, which clarified nothing as he still did not have the slightest idea of what it could be. He walked up to the build, punching the wooden panels.

“What is this?” Dream asked, referring to the object that he was punching in-game.

“It’s a wing.” George explained, jumping over to him in-game.

“A _wing?_ ”

“Yup.” Sapnap responded, offering no other information.

Dream spun around the figure again, trying to figure out what something with wings had to do with Minecraft.

“Is it a bird? Are you attempting to make a replica of my bird that you so violently _murdered_ during our last manhunt?” he asked, still unsure what to make of the figure.

“Let it go,” Sapnap retorts, “But no, it’s not a bird.”

Dream does not move his character, but instead sits back in his chair, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. What the hell has wings? He ponders, just looking at the wooden mass, feeling so hopelessly lost.

He sits back up, “I give up.”

Both boys groan at this, “C’mon Dream! You can figure it out! Where’s that 1000 IQ?”

“Can I have a hint at least?”

The boys are silent for a while, until George decides to give into the younger boy’s request.

“It’s a form of transportation.”

“ _Transportation?”_ Dream repeats, dumbfounded.

“Yup.”

He sits for a moment, just staring. He notices the build of it, comparing it to all the ways of transportation that he knows. Then it dawns on him.

“It’s a plane!” Dream shouts.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” Sapnap shrieks, signaling that he got it right.

The boys jump around in-game, placing blocks to launch themselves further as they circle around the wooden plane that Sapnap had built nearly 20 minutes ago. After a few minutes, the meaning goes unnoticed by Dream, blinded by his own self-commendation just from getting their little game right. He stops hopping around, only to find the two boys crouching in front of him, once again.

“What?” Dream questions.

“You’re not confused as to why we built this?”

“To be fair, you do a lot of things without good reasons. I didn’t know there was a reason for this one.”

“Well,” George starts, “There is.”

He looks back at the plane and then back at the two figures, both very familiar and special in their own way. Though they take up the most space in Dream’s head, much of it full of countless hours of in-game moments and late-night sessions; Dream wouldn’t change or alter those frozen moments in time for the world. He smiles fondly before focusing back on the two boys in front of him, Sapnap’s wide eyes and George’s goggles staring him down.

He giggles before glancing back at the plane once more, then back at Sapnap and George. He repeats this process a couple times, trying to force some sort of connection to occur. Plane, George, plane, Sapnap, plane, and back again. It clicks.

“Wait,” he starts, “Does this mean- “

He feels tears forming in his eyes, happy ones.

“It does,” both boys confirm, joy stitched into their words.

“When?”

“Well, I can’t come as early as I’d like, but George is able to get there a week before I can.”

He shifts his character over to George, imagining what he’d look like, _really_ look like. Close, just for him. He wonders.

“And,” he begins, “When will you get here?”

A long pause follows until George speaks up, “I will be there next week.”

A tear drips onto the hand his mouse is in, pure bliss radiating through his entire body. He smiles and sobs into his hands, he can’t believe it. He’s going to see them, the two people he’s surrounded himself with for years, the two people who made all of his success possible. He smiles so hard he cannot feel his cheeks, but he doesn’t mind this feeling at all.

“You’re serious?” he cries.

“Dead serious.”

More tears fall, landing on his desk, his hands, everything. He can’t stop smiling.

“Uh, Dream?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you crying?”

“Shut up, Sapnap.” Dream chokes out.

“Got it.”

Laughter and sobs fill the call, anticipation buzzing through the voice chat in preparation for the next week. The boys jump up and down, launching themselves off the blocks they already laid down, adding new ones to the mix. Once they’re done, cobblestone and dirt litter the ground around the plane. Dream smiles.

He has trouble falling asleep that night as hope flows through him. It’s a strange thing to have- hope. But for once in his life, he thinks maybe, just maybe, hope isn’t such a bad thing to have after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so difficult to write, but I'm very happy with how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed- I hope to have chapters out every few days or up to a week, idk. Thank you for reading <3333

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave any sort of comment, I don't mind! I will try to post soon, but school and streams may get in the way of that ;p


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